


Delirium

by Otterman_Empire



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fallout 4 Companions - Freeform, Fallout February, Fallout February 2020, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Drug Use, OC, Preston Garvey - Freeform, Preston Garvey is the general AU, Preston is the General AU, Raiders, Riona - Freeform, Riona Wyld - Freeform, Riona Wyld OC, Sole Survivor, Torture, Violence, fallout companions, fallout oc - Freeform, fallout4 - Freeform, its not really a ship fic but if you want to read it that way go for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:19:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22570006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otterman_Empire/pseuds/Otterman_Empire
Summary: Riona wasn't always as strong as she was, you have to be beaten down to get stronger, and being Captured and tortured seemed like the unfortunate way her dice fell, Delirious from the drugs and the isolation Riona doesn't recognize a savior when they appear
Relationships: Preston Garvey & Female Sole Survivor, Preston Garvey & Sole Survivor, Preston Garvey/Female Sole Survivor, Preston Garvey/Sole Survivor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Fallout February 2020





	Delirium

**Author's Note:**

> just a bit of a warning, this one is high in violence and suffering. This will likly be the case for most of what Im writing for Fallout February but if you enjoy good Hurt/comfort fics then this will def float your boat.

Riona has a history of being reckless in battle after being enraged, she blames it on the psycho testing when she was in the military, she like many others that had been involved in the testing had similar issues when they left the army, all of them went through withdrawal like symptoms when supply lines had been blocked when she was out Alaska. These types of fits seemed to only increase in frequency after she dethawed, having lost her son and being tossed into a world filled with people out for violence she almost always toed the line. **  
**

She tumbled over that line when she was clearing out a particularly difficult raider camp that she was thrown into one of these moments. There were too many for her to handle with a partner and definitely too much for her to handle by herself. She had started taking jobs to help the Minutemen, and the most recent settlement that she had been sent out to was complaining about raiders in the old corvega plant.

* * *

The place was filled, teaming to the brim with wasteland scum and unfortunately a shit ton of turrets too. She hadn't seen turrets of this level outside the old forts or the minutemen bases farther north. Regardless of where she had seen them before they were here and had her pinned behind a cement column, spotlights kept targeting her and leading raiders to her. Her AER9 had taken significant damage when she was slammed into a wall and isn't firing anymore. Blood was spilling down into her eyes from a gash on her forehead, and her shoulder was definitely dislocated, she could barely keep her pipe wrench in her hands left alone swing it. More raiders just kept coming, and she settled that this was going to be the end. 

And it might as well have been, she woke up in a dark cramped cement room, it likely was a cleaning closest, there was a mop sink taking up the majority of the ground, and what wasn't taken up by that was covered by bolted in shelves, of which she was chained to. Her wrists were bound well above her, making it nearly impossible to kneel on the ground, the shackles on her wrist bit into her flesh. She wanted to stand, to relieve some of the pressure but they had attempted to bash her knees making standing nearly unbearable. 

She couldn't tell how long she had been chained in this room, but she does know that she is starving and that her throat was raw from screaming. She thinks they've been in here a few times to toss her some sort of food, that she would struggle to get to, hurting her shoulder more. They had brought her water a few times but mostly they came in here to beat her. At first, she was silent never giving them the satisfaction of her cries, it was when they had come in here and injected her with something that she had been seeing things nonstop. It broke her, all she could remember was her time anchorage, all the shelling, and the power armor. She had been trapped in a set for three days when she had taken a hit to her fusion core and it completely shut down freezing her knocked down in a crater of a shell. 

Every time they came in here they made it different, she was certain there was no way to survive any of this, battered and bruised, strung up in a light less room. And to top it all off whatever they had been injecting her with was also making her violently ill. 

She couldn't remember the last time anyone had been in here, it had to have been days since they came to give her food or hurt her. And she feared she had been forgotten. To be forgotten after the physiological damage they did to her was a new form of pure torture and she could hardly function, she screamed and pulled at the chains. Something she hadn't done in a long time when it broke and she finally fell forwards she cried. Bawled. And curled into a ball after she wedged herself into a corner tugging the remnants of her clothes tight around her. 

She awoke to the door rattling she pushed herself further into the corner and screamed for them to go away, to leave her alone. When the door burst open the room was flooded with light, it was overwhelming. She fell to the ground and covered her eyes, she heard heavy footfalls enter the room and she raised her hand in a poor attempt to protect herself and she was already crying, they had never had this much light in here before and it made her shake. 

Something had knelt in front of her and leaned towards her, she tried to push herself into the corner a what from them sobbing, pleading.

“Riona?” she shook her head violently and curled in on herself, her eyes tightly closed. A hand pulled at her wrist, the rattle of the chains registered in her head along with the feeling of worn gloves. Her sobs turned into a coughing fit and she nearly collapsed onto the ground. She flinched when she saw a hand reach out for hers. “Riona, we’re going to get you out of here.'' She felt a coat around her. 

“Preston?” her voice was broken, and barely audible. 

“Yeah,” she heard him messing with some keys and felt the shackles drop from her. She was picked up. 

“okay.” the world had gone dark again and she just let it settle around her. 

When she woke up again it was still dark, and she screamed. She thought she had left. That it was over. It must have been a cruel joke and it was one likely to kill her. 

A door swung open and she scrambled to the ground, curling around herself and pressing herself against the bed frame which she’d yet to notice. She heard boots crossed the distance to her and she had started crying again, grip tight in her white tangled hair. She was shaking. 

“Riona, it's okay.” it was spoken in a comforting tone and she felt someone crouch next to her. She shook her head and pressed it further between her arms. 

“You're not real.” her voice was broken like her throat was stuck to itself. And it was teary, she was close to dry heaving with how upset she was. Preston sat down in front of her cross legged and put his hands on the ground in front of her so that she could see his gloves. 

“Do you know where you are?” 

She bit her lip and looked up a bit, it was still too dark in here, especially where she pressed herself into, the only light filtering in was from the hallway and it was faint, it silhouetted Preston hardly letting her see him. 

“No,” her lip was quivering and nearly torn from how much she was worried about it, her knuckles were turning white from the strain she was putting on her hair. He reached out to pull her hands away from her hair, but she violently flinched backward making the metal frame of the bed clatter. “please!” she cried out and tried to make herself smaller than she was already. He could hear her mumbling that it was fake, it was fake and it was dark. Too dark. 

It was a mistake to let it get so dark in here. He stood up and went to light candles around the room. His footfalls were solid and resounded around the room. He could hear her go from small whimpers to near sobbing, covering her neck and pressing herself to the ground. 

His boots. He grimaced before slipping out of them and putting them up and out of the way before going about lighting candles, letting a warm glow envelope the room. He took his gloves off and placed them in front of her before stepping out. 

It took her a long time to look up at what was placed in front of her. Worn dark leather gloves. She stared. It didn't make sense. She looked around. 

Wood was the first thing she noticed, the floor was wood, not cracked cement. There was a bed, sheets messy and the frame half knocked out of place. There was a window, it was shut and the curtains were drawn. Candles were melted on to the ground and on furniture, giving the room a warm glow. She looked down at herself. 

She was still messy, dressed in what was virtually rags, her hands were dirty and her body ached. Dark bruise and dried blood encircled her wrists. She was certain her hair was a knotted mess and likely clumped with blood. She looked back at the gloves and picked them up. They were real. 

She clutched them to herself and shuffled to lean against the wall furthest from the door. She tried to slow her breathing and focus on just the gloves, of nothing else but the gloves. She didn't know if anything else was real but she knew that the gloves were, and they remained solid in her grip. She closed her eyes and just sat there small and broken in the corner of the room. 

Preston padded back into the room with a small bowl of stew, he sat down next to her resting his head against the wall and setting the bowl down between them. Her movements were slow turning towards him trying to determine if he was real, or if he’d disappear the moment she made direct eye contact. He had taken off his hat which was settled near him and she looked down at the gloves clutched in her hands before looking back at him, teary eyed.

“preston?” 

He met her stare and smiled faintly. “It's me,”

She threw herself into him nearly spilling the bowl before he could move it. She had a tight grip on him and was halfway in his lap. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around her pulling her closer. She was sobbing in his arms and he was slowly rocking them both and quietly explaining that they were in Sanctuary and that it's safe here. He continued till he slowly felt her go limp and her crying subsides, she still kept a tight grip on him even as she drifted into sleep. 


End file.
